


very early

by smithpepper



Series: one-shots [2]
Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: M/M, One Shot, kurapika pov, post York Shin arc kinda if we’re being canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:15:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25107598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smithpepper/pseuds/smithpepper
Summary: What did I want? I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to make it through the night.
Relationships: Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Series: one-shots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818457
Comments: 1
Kudos: 51





	very early

I couldn’t sleep the first night.

I finally did it. I quit, and packed my belongings into one small suitcase, and rented a car and drove away from all of it, just when it felt like the world was closing in on me and I couldn’t breathe another mouthful of that universe’s noxious air.

I thought (hoped, even) that I would weep or laugh with relief as I drove down the dark interstate, but as the city lights receded to a distant glow in my rear view mirror, I only felt profound exhaustion. My shoulders sagged as I gripped the steering wheel.

I had no plan, really. I didn’t call Leorio until I was halfway to York New, and when I got ahold of him he wasn’t even home, he was at a medical conference in Swaldani City until next Tuesday, but I could let myself into his apartment and stay until he got back. I wondered if Leorio had an extra key because of me, but maybe that was a bit presumptuous. Leorio was generous; surely he had other close friends besides me.

The city was quiet when I arrived just after midnight. I parked in the apartment garage and found my way up to Leorio’s apartment on the seventh floor. The spare key was hidden in a potted palm in the hallway, and I unlocked the door and let myself in.

I toed off my loafers and hung my raincoat next to a white jacket with DR PALADIKNIGHT, MD embroidered in blue thread on the lapel before gazing around the apartment. I was impressed by the place. It was all sleek dark wood and stainless steel and tall windows that looked out on the glittering sprawl of cityscape below. Somehow turning on the lights without Leorio here felt too intrusive, so I used my phone as a flashlight and found my way to Leorio’s office, where he kept his futon for guests.

I dropped my suitcase at the foot of the futon and laid down on top of the blankets, still dressed in my suit and tie.

It smelled faintly of Leorio’s cologne in the room. Feeling warm, I stood up to open a window to let in some air. It stormed earlier, and the breeze was cool and fresh. When I laid back down, I rolled onto my side and stared out the window at the rain-washed streets.

* * *

For months I’d dreamt of running away. But now that it had materialized, I felt like I’d stepped off of a cliff into thin air, with nothing below my feet but a dizzying drop into emptiness. Nothing felt real. I had spent so many years obsessively focused on one singular goal. To set that goal aside in favor of a vast unknown was terrifying, and yet I knew that it was the only way that my life could have meaning going forward. Giving up was the hardest thing I’d ever done.

What would it mean, now, to live? 

* * *

The problem was that there was so much that I did not know. So much that I had never learned. I’d always been a quick study; I read faster than everyone, and I possessed a near-photographic memory for facts and figures. I could learn languages, oversee complex business deals, thoroughly incapacitate a threat with one swift palm to the sternum, and focus my Nen to a lethal razor blade, but now, simple matters of adulthood were frightening.

I had never done taxes, or rented my own apartment, or grocery shopped for more than the bare essentials. I had no experience dating. I didn’t know how to talk to children besides Gon and Killua, and they didn’t seem to count, somehow. I had no idea how to apply for a job. Would I be able to work a civilian job? What would I even do? Although my Hunter credentials would land me almost any position I desired, I had no inkling of what I wanted to do.

I envied Leorio in that regard. He burned with conviction and dedication for his career, and it carried him through the difficulties of medical school and residency where many others struggled and failed.

But what did I want? I hadn’t asked myself that question since I was twelve years old. I counted the ceiling tiles and exhaled slowly.

If I was being honest: I wanted someone to make the choice for me. I wanted not to think.

Shamefully, I wanted to relive the strange dreamlike hours of my fever, when no one could reach me or know me. I had feigned sleep every time Leorio placed his cool hands against my face, embarrassed for him to see me in such a state, but I loved his gentle doctor’s touch, and the quiet rustle of his shirt as he leaned over me, and the care that he took when he replaced the wet cloths on my forehead.

What did I want? I wanted to feel safe. I wanted to make it through the night.

* * *

It was so late (or rather so early) that the first songbirds of dawn were cooing in the trees outside. The sky had lightened to a pellucid gray-blue. I had laid awake for hours without feeling drowsy at all, although my eyelids prickled with exhaustion and my chest felt heavy.

This was the first day of the rest of my life, and I couldn’t even manage to fall asleep like a normal human being. Somehow in my sleep-deprived state, it felt like a real moral failing.

I groaned and flung my arm over my eyes when I heard the first rumblings of morning commuter traffic from the street. None of my strategies for insomnia had done a thing yet. I had counted backwards from 10,000 (and made it to the 7500s before giving up in despair), listened to three recordings of Senritsu playing her flute, watched a “Guided Meditation for Deep Blissful Rest” video that only succeeded in making me irritated with the speaker’s nasal voice, and forced myself to breathe deeply and slowly for several long seconds at a time, over and over. None of it worked, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin.

When I was very small and couldn’t sleep, my mother and father would occasionally let me climb into their bed and curl between them until I dozed off. I never remembered falling asleep and always woke up in my own bed the next morning, but I could remember lying between them in their dim bedroom. They read me stories and stroked my hair as I watched the candlelight shadows dancing on the walls through half-lidded eyes.

We slept on grass-stuffed pads underneath piles of thick hand-woven blankets, and although our beds could be itchy, they were very warm. I missed the way it felt.

Somewhere inside of myself, I descended a metal stairwell and reached a long hallway of wooden doors. I picked the door closest to me, which was made of birch wood and inlaid with intricate floral carvings, and pushed hard. I walked out into a thick green forest carpeted with spongy moss that felt velvety and moist underneath my bare feet. The air was turgid with humidity. I walked lightly, careful not to snap any twigs, and felt a few cold raindrops hit my scalp. I needed to get home before the storm picked up. It was already late afternoon from the looks of the sky, but I could not remember the way home, and came to a stop.

The horizon turned to a bruised purple. As the rain picked up, I stood rooted in place, shivering and unable to choose a direction. In the undergrowth I heard the rushing of a hidden river, and I worried that I would be swept away by floodwaters if I stayed in place in the deluge. Still I could not move another step. The rain grew icy cold. 

* * *

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up my mouth felt sandy and the light streaming in through the windows was different, a clean mid-afternoon lemon shine. I blinked my stinging eyelids several times and flexed my limbs experimentally, trying to make sense of where I was and what had happened, gradually remembering: yes, this is Leorio’s apartment, I drove here last night, I quit, I don’t have to go back. As the relief of that knowledge filled my veins, I became confused as to why I was lying in a different bed in a different room of the apartment.

I was tucked underneath a dense feather comforter in a large bed, and the sheets beneath me were white and satiny. I wasn’t wearing my suit any longer, either, just my undershirt and boxers and socks.

Had I slept-walked? There had been a period last year when I had repeatedly found myself suddenly awake in odd places in the Nostrade’s staff quarters in the middle of the night. Once I walked all the way to the kitchen to wake up in the middle of attempting to put a book in the fridge. Another time I came to as I was standing in my closet wearing nothing but a sweater and one dress shoe. I chalked it up to sleep deprivation at the time. This, however, felt different. 

As I pondered, I heard a clatter from the kitchen. I froze, my heart pounding hard. Had I forgotten to lock the front door?

I glanced to my right to see a white coat tossed on top of a pile of dirty laundry. The fabric was crumpled, but I could make out the letters ...DINIGHT, MD embroidered on the lapel.

Heavy footfalls padded down the hallway. Pulse quickening, I looked up to see Leorio standing in the doorway and clutching two steaming mugs. He was still wearing his blue hospital scrubs, and he had a dark shadow of stubble on his cheeks and jaw. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days.

“Ah! You’re up. Sorry if I woke you,” he said, walking in to set one of the mugs on the nightstand. It was filled with strong-smelling espresso. “I got back early. How’d ya sleep?”

My heart was still thumping hard in my chest. I picked up the mug of espresso and grasped it tightly in my hands.

“Better than I have in years, actually,” I said hoarsely, meeting Leorio’s eyes as his face broke into a smile. “Thank you.” 


End file.
